Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Well, maybe I was pregnant. Seemed like the most logical explanation for the weight gain. So what if I was 47 and Hubs had a vasectomy more than 100 years ago. (OK, a bit of an exaggeration. It was more like 15.) It was possible. Anything’s possible, right.

I started to imagine what it would be like being pregnant and the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that the scale inching up was the result of a miracle of sorts.

So, I tell Hubs. He’s not too happy to put it mildly. I mean, after all, he did have the snip-snip years ago and was finding it a little hard to believe that after all this time the dang thing could have come undone. And, he definitely did not want to be raising a child on Social Security.

So I buy a pregnancy test at the drug store. Two as a matter of fact. Just to be double sure.

Dang!

Turned out that I wasn’t pregnant. I was just getting fat.

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I'm thinking maybe this for my book intro:

First there was Lucy, then there was Roseanne and now there’s Buffy. OK, OK, maybe a bit of a stretch, but my life would probably make a great sitcom. (Just ask my co-workers or Hubs.)

Here are some tidbits from my world. The sad part is that they’re all true. The good part is, well, maybe there is no good part. Except if they make you laugh or bring a smile to your face on a day when you need it most. I’m not above providing comic relief for those less neurotic and obsessive. Enjoy!